Edward vs Mothra
by FlockOfGoats
Summary: Read ch 4! It's the best! Pre Eclipse. Jake, upset with Edward's persistent presence in Bella's life, hires a hit man, er, a hit-moth, reasoning that moths are attracted to bright, shiny things, so what better to fight a bright, shiny vampire?
1. Mothra: the Early Years

**This story was inspired in part by my brother's random wish, about ten years ago, to see **_**Godzilla versus Mothra**_**. I have no idea what inspired him, but whatever. I mentioned Mothra to a friend of mine and, in our fanaticism, we thought, 'hey, moths are attracted to shiny things. . . Edward's shiny. . . I wonder. . .' and hilarity abounded. The story gets Twilight-relevant in the next chapter. Also, credits to **_**Hiroshima**_** by John Hersey, and the really boring choir competition during which this was written with my wonderful co-author, Shelby!**

**Disclaimer: I claim no rights to **_**Twilight**_**, **_**Hiroshima**_**, or **_**Godzilla versus Mothra**_**.**

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**Mothra: the Early Years**

The bombing of Hiroshima killed approximately 100,000 people, destroyed most of the city's infrastructure, and permanently changed the life of a small family of moths. Scientists wouldn't discover the true extent of the damage caused by the radiation for years, but one effect became apparent almost immediately: the genetic makeup of several moths was so altered that they grew to truly mythic proportions.

Mr. Tanaka, father of Toshio Tanaka, became severely depressed after the explosion, which killed his wife, caused him to grow to a size where he was unable to so much as enter his home, and started many fires, which his friends and family were irresistibly drawn towards, as was their nature, causing many premature deaths. Mr. Tanaka resorted to alcohol to drown his sorrows. Unfortunately, moths aren't usually of a sufficient stature to buy anything, so he lacked money to pay for his sake. He also had no discernable skills, and so could not find a job to earn money.

Eventually, the Yakuza, the Japanese mafia, came looking for him in Asano Park, where he attempted to find shelter, even though it is slightly difficult for a ten foot tall moth to camouflage himself against the tree bark. Of course, a 10-foot tall moth is pretty threatening, so the camouflage wasn't really necessary.

Mr. Tanaka didn't think that he owned anything that the Yakuza might find to be suitable for compensation (his possessions were virtually nonexistent, unless one counted the tiny clearing he called home, and a pile of empty bottles). However, while the Yakuza were busy threatening him with various forms of torture, his young son, Toshio, came home, instantly drawing the attention of the previously intent Yakuza.

Now, Toshio, a poor moth dealing with both near total destruction of his home and puberty at the same time, had recently gone through a growth spurt of his own. He was quite a bit larger than his father, about the size of a small family home. Now, the Yakuza are very knowledgeable in the ways of moths, as is necessary for their position, so they knew that Toshio, a teenage moth, would continue to grow.

"Mr. Tanaka," they proposed, "we have a proposition."

"Now, keep in mind that you are in a very delicate position. If you fail to cooperate with our demands, um, I mean our polite requests, it would be quite easy for us to permanently, how should I put this . . . disable your wings."

"Whuh? Oh . . . um, m'kay," mumbled Mr. Tanaka. He had recently been cut off from his supply of alcohol and was suffering withdrawal pains. By a nearby tree, one could see how he had attempted to ferment some leaves as a substitute for his usual fix. If his dazed expression was any indication, he had been rather successful.

"Mr. Tanaka, there is only one conceivable solution to your problems: you give us your son, and we will absolve your debts."

The leader sat up straight, his eyes making it clear that there wasn't really a choice. Either Mr. Tanaka gave up his son, or he died.

"This is really beneficial for all involved. You are debt free, your son lives a better life, and you may even get to live, if you're lucky."

"But . . ." Tanaka trailed off. "Toshio is my only son left. Everyone else died in the fire; he's all I have left!" he protested, finally grasping the situation.

The Yakuza let their hands drift menacingly down to their swords.

"Well," he quickly reconsidered, "I guess it could work out . . . I didn't really want to deal with him through puberty, anyway."

Thus began Toshio's life as the mafia's hit man of choice. To make him sound more threatening (and to make his name a convenient description of his species so as to avoid any confusion), Toshio's name was changed to Mothra.

His exploits are remembered to this day; the most well known is his face off with Godzilla, although the movie is horribly biased. Mothra is really just misunderstood. Also, he doesn't die in the end. He and Godzilla calm down and peaceably discuss their differences in group therapy and join together to rebuild Japan (they were instrumental in helping to lift heavy wreckage). To this day, they are great friends.

But that is another story. Today's tale takes place during Mothra's tenure as a mafia hit man. Specifically, when he is sent on a special mission to the rainy town of Forks, Washington.

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**Please review? Pretty please? You'd make my day. Seriously.**

**I hope you enjoyed reading. The plot isn't intended to offend Edward/Jake/Bella/Mothra fans. I like all of them, so everything (including the who and why of hiring a hit-moth) is written jokingly. **


	2. Boss Man: Wise in the Ways of Science

"So," said Jacob Black as he leaned his abnormally tall torso over the table so as to more secretively conduct his conversatio

Kudos to my co-author Shelby, whose writing actually shows up in this chapter (although I've been expressly forbidden to pinpoint which sections she actually wrote . . . ). Twilight characters (okay, character, singular) actually appear in this chapter! I noticed I start about three paragraphs with 'well,' and at least two with 'so,' but sorry, that's just the way I talk, so I guess my characters are forced to talk that way, too.

**Disclaimer: the oh-so-creatively-named Boss Man is mine! I'm actually pretty proud of that. . . **

**-**

**Boss Man: Wise in the Ways of Science**

"So," said Jacob Black as he leaned his abnormally tall torso over the table so as to more secretively conduct his conversation, "you have someone available to help me with my . . . problem?"

"Why yes, of course. Who would we be if we didn't have people with certain special talents on our payroll?"

The small Asian man chuckled, sitting, relaxed in his seat. "I only wonder why you haven't taken care of this 'problem' yourself. Isn't that the whole point of you," here the man waved his hand in a circle, as if this encapsulated the full meaning of the vague 'you,' "existing?"

"It's complicated."

"Well, as I'm sure you've heard, our services are completely confidential, although I must admit that I am rather curious."

"Well," Jacob was becoming antsy – it wasn't every day that you ordered a hit man to whack the girl you love's boyfriend.

But that was exactly what he was doing. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and there was no way he was letting that excuse for a human put his hands on Bella (the girl our poor Jacob found himself besotted with) one more time.

"Well, like I said before, it's complicated. Kind of an inside thing."

Jacob leaned his muscular forearms on the table and looked the boss man in the eye (the other eye was obscured by a very menacing, very typically stereotypical eyepatch).

"Just how much is this going to cost me?"

"A job like this is going to be pretty pricey."

"Hit me."

"I would like to, but that wouldn't be professional."

The boss man had recently graduated top of his anger management class (he was ordered to attend by the court after he hit a customer for forgetting to say please. For a thug, the boss man valued politeness a lot).

"We'll discuss pricing later. It's our policy to only require payment after the deed has been done. We also have a money back guarantee if your intended victim should rise again."

"His kind does have a tendency to do that."

The boss man nodded sympathetically. "I know what you mean."

"Yeah, bastards." Jacob had some anger issues, but, unfortunately, there is no anger management class for werewolves. They tend to encourage the whole 'kill anything that isn't alive' bit. Excluding normal, unanimated corpses, of course.

"So," Jacob said, "just who is this guy you're sending me?"

"Well," the boss man answered, he isn't a man, so much as a giant insect."

"I hate leeches!"

"That is entirely irrelevant, as leeches aren't insects, but I accept your total ignorance of basic biological classification; not many people understand that leeches, while small and bug-like, are, in fact, members of the kingdom Animalia." The boss man had also graduated top in his class at the University of Tokyo, with a double major in biology and mythology. At the time, no one really understood his choice in major, but his degree had been surprisingly useful for his work with the Yakuza.

"Shut up." Jacob blushed. It wasn't his fault that he turned into a werewolf and missed the entire second half of sophomore biology. Honestly. Between learning not to kill classmates who cut in front of him in the lunch line and stalking Bella (for her own safety, of course), he had had almost no time to spare for school. But all of this is irrelevant. Back to the story.

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**Or not. For lack of a better spot to divide what I have written so far, I'm going to cut this off here. The next chapter will finish Jake's altercation with the 'boss man' (so named because Shelby and I couldn't come up with a better name for him at the time).**

**Please Review? I've always thought it pretty needy of writers to ask for reviews, but it's still just so sad looking at that little zero on the stats page. More to come soon. **


	3. Just How DO Moths Kill People?

**This is kind of a pathetically short chapter, but I just wanted to finish off the meeting with the boss man with its own chapter, so you'll just have to bear with the shortness. I'll probably update with another (twice as long :) ) chapter in the next couple of days. **

**-**

**Just How DO Moths Kill People?**

"Mothra is our best hit moth," the boss man said. "He is unstoppable. If he can't fix your 'little problem,' no one can."

Jacob paused for a moment to ponder just how many hit moths there could be. Even for someone intimately acquainted with so many mythical creatures, this was a staggering thought.

"It's not a 'little problem,'" Jacob replied vehemently, sarcastically imitating the air quotes employed by the boss man. "It's my life!"

"Well, as the case may be, Mothra is still your best shot at eliminating your target."

"I guess you're right."

"Good. It's a deal. He should arrive within the week; there's a rebellious village that needs taking care of first." The boss man stood up to leave, then turned back as if just remembering something.

"Also, while Mothra is in your employ, you are responsible for feeding him."

"What? Just what am I supposed to feed a gigantic moth?"

"Don't you have moths in Washington? No? So then you don't have to use mothballs, you know, to protect your clothes? Huh. That's funny," he shook his head, as if he couldn't imagine a life without mothballs.

"Well, moths eat clothes."

"But clothes aren't food." Jacob looked confused. Did they cover this in biology? Maybe he should consider going back to school . . .

"No. Not typically. You really are bright, aren't you? Well, while clothes aren't food for people," he spoke as if to a child, "they are quite nutritious for moths. You'll have to keep mothballs with any cloth you want to keep."

"Umm, before I go, I was wondering . . . How does Mothra kill people? A giant moth just doesn't seem that threatening . . ."

"Oh, you'll see," the boss man grinned knowingly before leaving.

Jacob felt a sudden chill at this thought. Perhaps he was wrong and moths were really bloodthirsty creatures that flew at night waiting to suck the blood of unsuspecting victims.

Wait. That sounded like someone else he knew.

He really needed to get a hobby.

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**My chapterly (as opposed to daily) plea: Review? Anyone out there? It doesn't take that long . . .**


	4. Mmmm shoelaces

**Okay, I don't have anything very clever to say, but this is my favorite bit of this story so far, so cheers to those of you who made it so far as chapter four!! That'll make you one of, oh, eight people who made it to chapter three! Out of ninety! Sarcasm. It's a little tough to type, but I try ********. **

**Anyway, I've been busy with college applications lately, so forgive the delay. I really should have written one of the dozen essays I have to do, but whatever.**

**Oh, and yeah. I do have a plot planned for this. Nothing too involved or intellectual, but I swear this beginning has both a middle AND an end coming. **

**--**

**Mmmmm. . . shoelaces**

"Holy crap!"

Now, Bella might complain about Jake's language, but it's not ever day you run across a giant moth in the woods outside your house. Although, now that he wasn't so shocked, Mothra didn't look that threatening as he sat on the ground munching on a scrap of the shoe Jake had torn the day before.

"Hi there," Jake tried to sound normal.

But Mothra did not respond, he just went on munching on Jacob's once whole shoe.

"Hi there," Jake tried a bit louder and ventured cautiously closer.

This time Mothra turned his giant head towards him. He was in the process of slurping up Jake's shoelace.

"Is your mouth full?" Jake didn't know if moths particularly cared about having good table manners, but he didn't know what to do with a hit man he couldn't talk to.

Thankfully, this query into the customs of foreign cultures (and species) was averted when Mothra quickly finished his meal.

Jake waited, but still Mothra did not speak. He just stared at Jake with his big, bulbous, compound eyes (a term Jacob proudly recalled from one of the few occasions when he actually made it to biology), and his antennae twitching back and forth.

The staring contest continued as they stared into each other's eyes.

Well, Jake stared into Mothra's eyes. Mothra stared greedily at the hem of Jake's cutoffs.

"Well, nice to meet you, I guess. Welcome to the United States. Did you have a nice flight?"

Mothra continued to stare at Jake's shorts with slowly rising hunger.

"Well, it seems that you don't speak." Jake wasn't at his best and brightest. He had just come to the conclusion that, although no longer bug-sized, so far as the anatomical parts such as vocal cords needed for human speech are concerned, Mothra was still a bug, and therefore unable to conduct polite chit chat.

"So, maybe we could work out a sign language system. One antenna twitch for yes, two for no. Alright then. Do you understand me?"

Jake watched in anticipation to see if his ingenious (he thought) plan would succeed. And, sure enough, Mothra's right antenna slowly made one small movement upward.

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**Finally, I would just like to say, I would love a review. Any review. I wasn't accepted into the National Honor Society at my school because I supposedly don't accept criticism gratefully, but I swear I do (this is true. And it was the only reason they cited. And I'm the freaking valedictorian!!).**

**Really. Go ahead and try criticizing me. I'm a very gracious person. Unless you're idiotic like my history teacher, who I suspect was instrumental in kicking me out of NHS . . .**


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